


Like Sleep to the Freezing

by hannigramcracker



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Anxiety, Gen, M/M, Panic Attacks, Vomiting, can be read as m/m or gen, kinda not really, puke without plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 23:23:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16820518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannigramcracker/pseuds/hannigramcracker
Summary: When Rhett and Link travel for a few days for a fan meetup, Link forgets his sleep shirt. You know, the one he's slept in every night for the past twenty-five years.





	Like Sleep to the Freezing

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I'm back. I was inspired by Ear Biscuits ep. 146 when Link mentions he's slept in the same tshirt for twenty-five years and Rhett just moves on without denying it.

It had been a long day, there was no denying that. Rhett and Link had spent most of the morning traveling, maneuvering through a crowded airport. They had then spent most of the afternoon doing interviews, and finally spent most of the evening at a meetup with the mythical beasts. 

It had been a good day, but it had been a long one. 

And Link was at the end of his rope by the time they reached the hotel room to settle in for the night. They had separate rooms, which was fine, but it made Link feel a little nostalgic for the  _ old days  _ whatever that meant. Their rooms joined by a little door in the middle, so it was basically the same thing, but it still made Link start to get a little moody. He was just tired. 

Exhausted, really, and Rhett knew it. He knew not to comment when Link didn’t have much to say on the ride from the venue to their place. He knew not to push it when he invited Link to get a drink and Link turned him down. Link just wanted to get in the shower, wash the day off of him, and put on his shirt and clean boxers and get into a bed that wasn’t his. 

Days like this could be tough for him. Every emotion throughout was so positive, so thrilling, but also so taxing. It took him a while to process the experience and then file it away with a smile. The harsh filter innate anxiety gave almost everything made it difficult to process. He could do it, and he  _ did _ do it, but that didn’t change the fact that it tired Link to no end. 

Rhett bid him goodbye at the door to their rooms and told Link to text him if he needed anything. Link nodded and wanted to lean over to kiss Rhett on the cheek before he left, but tonight wasn’t the night for that. Link had closed himself off before there was even a chance. With the door latched shut behind him, Link immediately began to disrobe. The jacket he was wearing was left slumped against the wall and the layers that came off as he walked into the room lay where they fell. 

Link couldn’t bear to keep his jeans on for another minute, his clothes felt itchy and constricting and he hated it. Link took a breath and tried to control himself. This was a thing. This happened sometimes and he knew how to deal with it. He just had to get in the shower and then sleep it off and he would be just fine in the morning. 

Trying to keep his anxiety from turning into full blown panic over nothing at all, Link stepped into the bathroom and turned the light on. Fluorescent and blinding against all the white immaculate hotel surfaces. Link blinked at his reflection, looking washed out and scrawny in the large mirror with nothing but his glasses on. He took them off and ran a hand through his hair, disrupting the way it had been styled. He took another measured breath before turning the shower on and letting it run for a moment. 

He checked the temperature with his hand before he climbed in himself, tanned body slipping into fogged obscurity that Link could no longer see in the mirror. Link sighed when the warm water hit his back. He let his head loll forward and started to stretch his neck in time with his breathing. This felt good. Maybe once he showered he would feel better enough to go have a beer with Rhett. He didn’t want to push it too hard, though. Link rolled his shoulders into the water and grunted at the tension it released. He stood like this, stretching and releasing, breathing and listening, for no less than twenty minutes before he reached forward to turn the spray off. 

When silence fell over the bathroom, aside from the occasional drips and drops from the shower head, Link knew he felt better. All he needed was to dry off and crawl into bed. He was so relaxed he thought he might not even need to read before falling asleep. Relieved that his anxiety seemed to have tired itself out, Link took his time drying off, not wanting himself to start to feel rushed again. He brushed his teeth with the little packet of toothpaste the hotel had provided before he put his glasses back on.

The toothpaste was kind of a weird consistency. 

He was walking to his bed, thinking about asking Rhett if he used the toothpaste tomorrow morning. He was hoisting his suitcase up off the floor to rifle through it, wondering if they should start saving toothpastes from  _ all  _ the hotels they went to and make a game out of them. He was going between a blind test ranking or using them in a game of some kind when he reached the bottom of the suitcase and didn’t find what he was looking for.

Immediately, goosebumps rose on his forearms and a chill slithered down his back. No.  _ No.  _ He must have just missed it in with all the piles of his other clothes. Why did he always pack so much? It made it so hard to find anything. Link took a deep breath, curling his toes against the carpeted floor, trying to keep himself grounded. He plucked a pair of boxers off the top of the suitcase and slid them on before rifling through the suitcase again. 

Link tired to keep his hands steady, willed them not to shake with all his might, but they were trembling by the time he got to the bottom of the suitcase once more, still coming up empty. 

He couldn’t find his shirt. 

The shirt he slept in every night for the last twenty five years. The most important fucking shirt that he owned. The shirt he  _ couldn’t  _ fall asleep without. 

This was not happening. 

Link’s breathing sped up and every ounce of anxiety he had showered off came back tenfold. He cursed to himself, voice strained and high pitched, before tugging at fistfuls of his hair. Link took a step back from the suitcase and tried to breathe, but it was hitched and shallow and he couldn’t do anything about it. 

Without really thinking, he dove forward again into the suitcase and began tearing items out of it one by one. Each piece of clothing was strewn to the floor and soon there was nothing but a pile of shirts and boxers and jeans - but his sleep shirt was nowhere to be found. 

Link felt helpless. He felt like he wanted to scream. He swore he could feel the blood pumping through his veins, roaring in his ears. Panic seized him and clutched at the insides of his wrists and the backs of his knees. He crumpled, kneeling on the clothes covered floor. He reached back up to tug at the roots of his hair and he was rocking back and forth without really realizing it. 

He should do something. 

He should text Christy and make sure his shirt was at home. But what if it wasn’t there? What if he’d never see it again? He couldn’t deal with that thought right now. It sent sharp nausea spiking through his chest, stealing away what little breath he had. 

He could call Rhett. Rhett would come over and be there in seconds. But what could he do?  _ He  _ didn’t have Link’s shirt, and Link couldn’t ask him to stay up all night with him when he couldn’t sleep because of some childish fixation. They both had places to be in the morning. They needed to be able to get their rest. 

Link whimpered to himself, leaning forward on his knees to paw through the discarded clothes one more time. Still, no shirt. 

So instead, he grabbed another one. He shoved it over his head and pushed his arms through the holes. It felt….well, it felt just like a t shirt but it felt  _ wrong.  _

He needed to at least try to get some sleep. They had too much to do tomorrow and the next few days. 

_ The next few days.  _

Link blinked tears away from his stinging eyes. He was going to be without his sleep shirt for the next few nights. He felt exhausted just thinking about it. He wanted to cancel everything and go home. He wanted to hide in his dark bedroom under the blankets with his dog, his wife, and his  _ shirt.  _

When Link stood, he was struck with such a dizzying sensation that he was surprised he didn’t fall right back on his ass. He used the bed to keep himself upright, trying still to school his breathing back into something normal and manageable. It wasn’t working. 

Even though he had just showered, he clambered back into the bathroom and hung on to the ledge of the sink for balance. He was huffing his breaths still, nearly fogging up the mirror again. He flipped the faucet on and splashed his face with cool water, hoping it might help him snap out of this. 

It somehow did the opposite. 

Link’s world tilted when he closed his eyes, the water rushing down his cheeks made him feel disoriented, like he was moving when he wasn’t. Without really thinking, he dropped to his knees in front of the toilet. He didn’t know if he  _ was  _ going to vomit, but he wanted to play it safe. He kept the lid closed and leaned his head against the cool porcelain, breath still coming from him in short shallow gasps. 

He stayed there, eyes clenched shut, for longer than he would like to admit before finally decided he wasn’t going to be sick. He stood, washed his still trembling hands, and left the bathroom. 

He sat on the edge of the hotel bed for a few moments. Rocking back and forth again, not even realizing the ways he was attempting to self soothe, his hands scrabbled against the collar of the t shirt he was wearing. It was too constricting. He felt like the neckline was choking him. The shirt seemed starched, cardboard thick, practically a straitjacket. 

With a strangled moan, he tore the shirt from his body, naked chest heaving. 

He needed to go to sleep. That was that. He needed to get in bed, and he needed to do it  _ now.  _ Link turned off the light next to the bed, tore his glasses from his face, and flopped down on the mattress in the same motion. The mattress was soft, gave too much, and the pillows were the worst. He tried to curl on his side, but it wasn’t comfortable. He was freezing, the sheets were rustling too loudly, they were too stiff. 

Link moved to his back and shut his eyes. He tried to count his breathing, tried to keep himself calm, but a few tears slid from his eyes. Even though no one could see him, he felt incredibly embarrassed. 

Here he was, a grown and successful man, having a full on breakdown over something as silly and trivial as a  _ tshirt.  _

Out of nowhere, Link’s mouth filled with saliva. It was warm, felt sticky, and the dizzying vertigo from earlier was back with a vengeance. He tried to clench his eyes shut and breathe through it, but colors swirled behind his eyelids. He felt like he was moving, rocking back and forth in a violent way. His jaw started to go numb and Link threw the covers off of himself and stood. 

He scrambled to the bathroom and left the door open when he got there. He didn’t turn on any lights, just knelt in front of the toilet and opened the lid. Drool continued to collect beneath his tongue and he spat it out as it came. 

It trailed from his lips to the surface of the water and just kept coming. He couldn’t spit it as fast as it was pooling. His breathing hitched, and he leaned forward, a deep and heady burp growling up his throat. A breathy moan, another spat mouthful of drool, and then - finally - a heave. 

It was slow. The vomit crawled out of his throat, chunky and undigested. The orange he’d eaten earlier stung his throat as it came back forth. He definitely hadn’t stayed hydrated enough throughout the day, and he was paying for it now. Another heave brought more tears to his eyes, brought another thick, heavy wave of sick up his throat. He trembled, shivering at the cold of the tiled floor against his bare knees. Goosebumps rose on his arms and down his back. He felt clammy and  _ wrong.  _

He vomited again - and again - shoulders hitched to his ears, suffering through each and every heave. It caught in his throat and under his tongue, so heavy and thick that he almost had to actively  _ spit  _ to get it out of his mouth. It splashed into the toilet, backsplash hitting him in the chin, mixing with chunks that stuck there. It was revolting. He felt  _ awful.  _

Still unable to slow his breath down, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to weather this alone. His nerves felt both electrified and entirely frayed at the edges simultaneously. He didn’t even feel like any of this was  _ real.  _ He felt like if he left the dark bathroom and went back into his dark room  _ alone  _ then his heart would surely burst from his chest and they’d find him there, dead in the morning. 

His breath hitched against a sob again. He  _ knew  _ he wasn’t dying. He was no stranger to this feeling, but that didn’t mean it was pleasant. Sometimes he just needed a little help through it. And he knew he had help. All he had to do was reach out and ask. 

His stomach seemed to have calmed down enough, so he reached forward and flushed the toilet. Then he flushed it again to get rid of the remnants of the mess that were still floating in the water. He sat there for a few moments more, trying to will his head to stop spinning. 

He needed Rhett. All he wanted was to hear his soothing voice talk him down. He wanted his safe, strong arms to wrap around him and make him forget about his fucking shirt. 

He gasped brokenly again at the thought. 

Link wished he had brought his phone into the bathroom with him. He didn’t feel like he was strong enough to get back to bed on his own shaking legs. He hoisted himself up off the floor and had to brace against the sink once more. He rinsed his mouth with a paper cup and tap water, and then he rinsed again. The taste was  _ there  _ and it wouldn’t dissipate. 

Link left the bathroom, but the slight hallway connecting it to the rest of the room seemed too long to traverse. Maybe he would just curl up on the floor. Or maybe he’d sleep in the bathtub. People always talked about doing that in hotels and he’d never experienced it himself. 

He felt too tired, bone deep exhausted, to even get all the way back into the bathroom. And getting into bed seemed terrifying - he would be confronted with the absence of his shirt again and he didn’t think he could take that. Link slumped against the wall across from the bathroom, all but collapsing, tucking his knees against his chest. 

The wall was frigid against his bare back and Link tried to curl in on himself even more. He shook with a sob and fought to keep himself from hitting his head against the wall. Anything to distract from the awful suffocating pain in his chest. 

Link planted his hands flat on the rough carpet and rubbed, not enough to hurt himself but just enough to cause distracting friction. It was better than nothing, but his wrists still stung with the sharp barbs of panic driven into them. His breathing picked up once more, his throat was raw and he felt like he was slipping, swirling into panic-fueled nothingness. 

He needed someone. He needed his phone. He needed Rhett. 

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t breathe - god, he couldn’t  _ breathe - _

He ran his hands across the floor faster, in longer arcs, and his pinkies bumped against the wall. The wall felt different against his right hand, like there was a crack where it connected to the floor. It took him a few more sweeping motions - his hands were starting to  _ sting - _ before he realized it was the door that connected his room to Rhett’s that he was feeling. 

He moaned, breathy and terrified, reaching one hand up to unlock the door and the other to claw at his naked chest ( _ where his shirt should be he didn’t have his shirt it was gone).  _

_ Rhett - _

A fresh wave of dizzy panic washed over him and Link felt like he was slipping all over again. A hot spike of panic drove itself inside his chest and throbbed, stinging. His heart was pounding, he couldn’t  _ breathe.  _ He gasped, dry heaved into his lap, but thankfully nothing more than another strangled sob came forth. One shaking hand pressed over his mouth, he reached his other hand to rap against the bottom of the door. 

It was soft, almost too quiet, and all he could do was hope that Rhett was in the room and that he didn’t have his headphones in or the tv up too loud. He knocked again and again, knuckles getting sore, wedding ring clanging against the wood. He knocked louder and louder, anxious energy channeling itself into his movement. 

“ - Link? That you?” Rhett’s voice was muffled through the door. Link didn’t stop knocking. 

“ _ Rhett.”  _ He gasped, but his voice was too small to carry through. 

Link only stopped tapping the door when he heard Rhett unlatching the lock on the other side. When he opened the door, golden light spilled in and Link squinted his eyes, a hand still pressed against his mouth. 

“Link? Brother?” Rhett asked, looking around the seemingly empty room. “Link?” 

Rhett’s voice popped with worry on the consonant and Link reached out to brush his finger against Rhett’s shin. Link felt bad when Rhett jumped, and felt worse at the way his face contorted once he saw Link on the ground. 

Immediately, Rhett was crouching in front of Link, on hand on his shoulder and the other against his temple. He was sweaty and Rhett’s hand felt cool against his hot skin. He leaned into it, one hand staying firmly over his mouth. He was breathing heavily into it, it was uncomfortable, but he felt sure he would come undone if he moved even an inch. 

“Hey. Hey, okay. You’re okay. What happened, bo?” Rhett’s voice was soothing, the calming cadence comforting Link more than he had thought it would. 

He sobbed, the rush of emotion far too much for his frayed nerves to process. Link hung his head forward, all but drooling on his open palm, gasping for air. He shook his head. He couldn’t answer Rhett’s question. It was too much to admit - the absence of his sleep shirt still felt like a raw open wound, and the humiliation he felt at his reaction to the situation was overwhelming. 

“Alright. That’s okay.” Rhett settled in next to Link, his back against the now closed door. “Let’s get you calmed down, yeah? Can you hold my hands, brother?” 

Shakily, Link reached his right hand out to Rhett, who closed his fingers around it. Link knew his palm felt clammy and wet but Rhett said nothing and held fast. Link couldn’t pull his other hand from his mouth, it hung open behind his fingers. Rhett paused a moment before talking again. “Good job. You give me that other one when you’re ready.” 

Rhett rubbed his thumb over the ridges of the knuckles on the back of Link’s hand. Back and forth, he ran his thumb in a rhythmic motion over the peaks and valleys. “Okay, Link. Take a deep breath with me.” 

Rhett moved his thumb in time with a deep breath he took himself, stopping at Link’s pinky and moving back on his exhale. He did it again, and Link tried to follow suit. He gasped a lungful of air and let it out in a huff too soon. 

“That’s good.” Rhett said, even though Link knew it wasn’t. “Another one. In…..and out.” 

This breath was easier, and Rhett smoothing his thumb over the back of his hand in time along with his endless praise was helping. Three or four lungfuls of air later, Link moved his hand from his mouth and thrust it on top of Rhett’s hand. 

“There you go, bo. Just like that.” Rhett mumbled, still showcasing his own breathing. He brought Link’s hand to his own mouth and kissed the back of it gently. Link’s eyelids fluttered at the tickle of his beard. 

“Rhett-“ Link’s voice was strained, hoarse, thready. 

Rhett let go of Link’s hands and opened his arms. Link fell into his embrace, clumsy against the floor. He still felt shaky and wildly unsteady, but the waves of panic began to ebb and fade in Rhett’s presence. 

“I’ve got ya, Linkster. Tell me what‘s going on?” 

“I threw up.” Link whispered, knowing that wasn’t what Rhett was asking, but his mind was still too jumbled to be coherent. 

“Oh, darlin’.” Rhett breathed, hugging Link closer, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “Were you feeling sick all day?” 

Link shook his head, burrowing into the crook of Rhett’s neck and breathing deeply. His cologne was intoxicating - he smelled like sweaters and candles even though he was wearing a tshirt and lounge pants. 

“Let’s get you up and into bed, yeah?” 

Link froze against Rhett, remembering the reason for his plight. He whined, writhing against Rhett’s chest, hands clutching for purchase. He clenched his teeth. “Can’t. Can’t. Can’t.” 

“Okay.” Rhett said, ever patient. “Just talk to me, brother. Tell me what’s going on. Can’t help til you let me know how.” 

Link pressed even closer to Rhett, somehow before whispering into his shoulder. “Left my shirt at home.” 

If Link had expected that Rhett wouldn’t understand what he was saying, he was mistaken. “Oh. Link.” 

Rhett rubbed a hand against Link’s back, following the curve of his spine carefully. Link relaxed against Rhett’s rough hand. Rhett circled his other arm around Link’s hips. Link felt tears welling up again, and didn’t fight them. They fell, dampening Rhett’s neck and shoulder, and Rhett held him through them. He kept Link still through his wracking sobs, and Link knew he was going to feel better once this was over. 

“Let it out, brother. I’ve still got you.” Rhett cooed into his ear. Link felt his breath against his earlobe. “I’ve always got you.” 

Link cried until it felt like his very  _ teeth _ hurt, somehow, and Rhett never once pressed him to move. He just sat, with his legs sprawled on the floor in front of them, and rocked Link gently as the tears spilled. Soon, his eyes were dry and stinging, no more tears to be found. A few breathy sobs escaped, Rhett hushing him every time. Link wanted to dissolve into him, wanted to stop existing in this terrible moment in this awful dark room. He wanted to wrap himself up in Rhett and not have to worry about the world getting in. 

Link’s tears dried, his breath mostly calmed, and his legs were starting to fall asleep from the awkward half curled position he had held on the floor for so long. Rhett must have been feeling the same way, if not worse, and a hot ember of guilt ignited when Link thought about how Rhett’s back must be feeling. He sat up slightly, wiping his dripping nose on his wrist. 

“Hey. You feelin’ okay now?” Rhett’s accent was warm and soft. Link nodded, blinking into the darkness. “Why don’t you come over to my room? See if we can get some sleep.” 

“I’m not gonna be able to sleep tonight, Rhett. I can’t keep you up.” Link mumbled, sounding utterly miserable. 

“Well I’m gonna be up worrying about you, so you might as well get comfy in my bed.” Rhett reasoned and Link hated that it sounded so damn tempting. 

“Rhett…” 

“I mean it, bo. I don’t want you in here in the dark all by yourself.”

“I’ll be fine.” Link said, but couldn’t meet Rhett’s eyes. 

Rhett pursed his lips, hummed for a moment. “I have an idea.” 

Link looked back at him, eyes wide and bloodshot. His head was starting to hurt and his throat felt like sandpaper. He  _ wanted  _ to sleep. If anyone could help him do that, it would be Rhett. 

Rhett moved slightly, shifting Link’s weight but not removing him from his lap entirely. He reached behind him and Link was truly confused for a moment until Rhett started to pull his shirt up and over his head from the back.

“Rhett, no. You don’t have to-“ 

“I wanna, Link.” Rhett said, and he sounded so sure and convinced that Link couldn’t argue. 

Rhett motioned for Link to put his arms up and he pulled the shirt down over his head. It was big, and hung a little close to one shoulder. He was still sitting, but Link could tell that it would cover nearly half of his boxers if he stood. It still wasn’t his shirt. 

But. 

But it smelled good, delicious even. It held Rhett’s scent in the fabric and Link couldn’t stop himself from rumpling up the front and holding it against his nose. He breathed in, smelled wood and chocolate and a faint burst of cologne. Part of the collar was wet still from his tears, but Link didn’t mind. It was warm from Rhett’s skin and Link could feel every muscle in his body relaxing and releasing the rigid tension he’d been holding. 

“See, isn’t that better?” Rhett asked, rubbing a hand up Link’s spine. 

Link felt like a child, dwarfed in Rhett’s shirt, but he nodded. It  _ did  _ feel better. So much better that he was almost ashamed to admit it. 

Rhett’s chest was broad and distracting, even in the dim darkness. Link could make out his pecs, the hair dusting across him and leading down to the waistline of his pants. He could just barely make out the faint outline of each nipple. He wanted more than anything to curl up against Rhett’s chest, his big warm hands holding him safe and secure. He felt almost sure he could get that exact thing if he followed Rhett back to his room. 

He didn’t want to stay in this room anyway. The air was heavy with spent emotion. He didn’t want to think about the piles of clothes on the floor, the stench of vomit still hanging in the small bathroom, the aching absence still left by his shirt. 

He clung to the bottom hem of Rhett’s shirt, trying to erase the anxious flare that swelled in him again at the thought. He spoke before he could think better of it, before he could talk himself out of going. “Are you sure it’s okay if I spend the night?” his voice was rough, deep, used up. 

Rhett’s arms tightened around Link’s waist and nodded. “I wasn’t gonna let ya stay alone, brother.” 

Rhett tapped Link’s back twice with the flat of his hand and Link rose to stand. He reached out for Rhett’s shoulders to steady himself, Rhett still sitting against the wall. Rhett circled his wrists with his hands and stood as well, effortlessly taking Link’s weight against his side. Link buried his face in the crook of Rhett’s neck again, his stubble pressing into Rhett’s bare collarbone. Rhett opened the door and Link squinted into the light of the other room. Rhett had left the lights on, all of them by the look of it. Link whined against Rhett’s shoulder unintentionally, and Rhett rubbed a hand between his shoulder blades. 

“I’ll turn the lights off as soon as we get in. Don’t worry. Let’s just get you situated.” 

“My head hurts, Rhett.” Link mumbled, sleepiness overcoming him as the last dregs of panic faded. The room smelled like Rhett, felt warmer than Link’s room, seemed inviting. Link felt like his limbs weighed a hundred pounds each as Rhett helped him walk across the room. 

“I know, bo. I’ll get you some water. That’ll help.” Rhett sounded so sure, and Link couldn’t argue his logic. He always knew what Link needed after he had a panic attack - even if he hadn’t had one in quite some time before tonight. Rhett had been the first person he’d ever told about them, and continued to be the best person at talking him back down. 

Link felt something soft behind his knees and settled his weight backwards. He would have plopped entirely down on the bed, longways, but Rhett held a hand against his back. “Hang on here for just a sec. I’m gonna turn off the lights and get you your meds.” 

Link wanted to argue, wanted to say he didn’t need his meds anymore, wanted to know exactly  _ how  _ Rhett had his own supply of  _ Link’s  _ medication, but he didn’t. Thoughts were still coming so randomly, rapid fire, that he knew the meds would ultimately help, and he knew Rhett knew the same thing. 

Instead he sat, eyes squinted slightly without his glasses and against the light while Rhett rifled through his bags and ran the tap in the bathroom. His legs were starting to get cold, he wanted nothing more than to curl up under the stiff hotel blankets, but felt much too exhausted to do so himself. He would wait for Rhett to come back, and Rhett would make everything okay again. 

Soon enough, the lights were out, and Rhett crossed the small room back to Link. He was humming, quietly, and Link could only hear when he got close enough to touch again. He handed Link one small pill and a glass of cold water, the outside fogged with condensation. Link swallowed it and before he could worry about where to put the glass, Rhett was taking it and helping Link lean back against the pillows. 

“Just relax now, Linkster. Close your eyes and rest.” Rhett climbed up into the bed next to him and pulled the blankets over both of them. Link wasted no time scooting closer to Rhett and prodding at the arm closest to him. Rhett laughed and lifted his arm, allowing Link to slot himself in. “I’m right here, and I’m not goin’ nowhere.” 

Link laid his head against Rhett’s chest, slinging one arm over his torso, Link ran his hand through Rhett’s chest hair and nuzzled ever closer, as though maybe he could burrow right into his skin. Link felt himself slipping, sleep crawling at the edges of his awareness. It was nice, smelling Rhett, listening to his heartbeat, the gentle rise and fall of his torso with his breathing. 

“Thank you, Rhett.” Link said, and Rhett just hummed. Link knew he didn’t need to be thanked, would say as much, but that didn’t stop Link from wanting to show his appreciation in droves. 

They lay in silence for some time, Link still stroking the hair on Rhett’s chest, Rhett following suit by running his fingers through Link’s hair. His blunted fingernails against Link’s scalp were helping his headache dissipate. Link sighed in contentment and shifted, cheek against chest now. It was likely he’d wake up and have drooled on Rhett throughout the night, but it wasn’t like it would be the first time that had happened. 

“Wish you had your guitar.” Link mumbled, half asleep, worlds away and not even really aware of what he was saying. He felt Rhett’s chuckle vibrate through him. 

“How come?” Rhett sounded amused, like he was smiling into the darkness. 

“Wan’ you to sing me to sleep.” Link’s voice was slurred, like he was already almost there. 

Rhett shifted his position slightly and started humming again. It was the same song from earlier, a song that Link didn’t know but that didn’t matter. He could ask Rhett what it was in the morning. For now, it was enough, and he drifted off completely and totally surrounded by Rhett and his loving embrace. 

**Author's Note:**

> Rhett is humming Cherry Wine by Hozier and that's where the title lyric is from.
> 
> Anyway, come be friends with me! cemetery-witch on tumblr and spockingout_ on twitter, you know the deal.


End file.
